


Sunshine Came Softly

by grayintogreen



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Rocket needs a hug, gotg vol 2 spoilers, let mantis pet the puppy 2k17, rocket and mantis bromance, scenes that definitely happened post gotg vol 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-02 23:00:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10954518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grayintogreen/pseuds/grayintogreen
Summary: “Sit down. I’m gonna lay some ground rules.”In which Mantis tries, once again, to reach out to Rocket and this time, he actually lets her.





	Sunshine Came Softly

**Author's Note:**

> I had a lot of Rocket-related GotG Vol 2 feelings, and the need for post-movie Rocket angst and h/c was overwhelming me, so here we are.

This chick was in no way inconspicuous. 

 

And part of Rocket (the quieter part of him that felt bad for things and cared deeply) understood it- Mantis had spent the better part of her life alone with only a textbook narcissist for company, after all. She probably felt that the only way she’d be allowed to do anything is if she hung back and waited for an invitation. Drax had gotten her over that particular hurdle when it came to joining them for mealtimes and inviting herself into the common room without anyone calling her over (she thought she might be intruding), but some things still lingered.

 

Like now, for instance. She’d been standing in the doorway of the engine room for ten minutes (Rocket counted), while he adjusted a few things around the _Quadrant_ ’s systems (Peter was gunning _hard_ for the ship to be renamed the _Locklear_ , but so far everyone was ignoring it). At first he figured the “ignore her and she’ll go away” approach would suffice, but Mantis proved to have infinite patience.

 

Rocket, much to the chagrin of all around him, did not.

 

He dropped a wrench on the floor, smugly self-satisfied that it made her jump, and said, with annoyance in his voice, “I’m busy. What d’you want?”

 

Mantis locked her legs together and stood with her hands fidgeting in front of her, which made him immediately feel a twinge of regret that he’d scared her intentionally. Only a twinge though. It wasn’t his fault she was looming, and his quiet sympathy only extended so far as when it didn’t inconvenience him. 

 

“I am very sorry to disturb you,” she hesitated, as if struggling to choose a word, and then added, “Rocket.”

 

That awkward smile of hers really was just as terrifying as Drax described. He returned it with an odd look and a slow blink. “And yet, here we are,” he muttered, picking up the wrench again. 

 

Seeing that he was about to start ignoring her, Mantis took a few more steps into the engine room and blurted out quickly, “I wanted to apologize for upsetting you on Berhart. I spoke to Gamora about Drax’s practical joke, and she said that you are very sensitive about being touched. I did not know.”

 

“Drax did,” came Rocket’s immediate (and disgusted) response. “‘Course he’s stupid, so whatever. It don’t matter.”

 

“It _does_ matter,” Mantis insisted with an intensity Rocket hadn’t really expected this girl to even possess. She really must be growing a backbone around this lot. “I upset you, and I want to make it right. Peter says it’s good to ‘clear the air’ after a disagreement.”

 

You could give him three guesses as to why Peter had given her that particular life lesson, but Rocket only needed one. Now that things were back to normal, albeit with a bigger ship involved, the bickering and fighting had picked back up again. An empath like Mantis was probably losing her mind with the uncertainty of their moods, and, _of course_ she probably assumed that Rocket ignoring her was due to being annoyed by her lack of social grace on Berhart, and not, as was the true reason, because Rocket was being particularly _himself_ and only people used to him knew how to work around that.

 

He thought about explaining that, but then he thought to hell with it. She’d figure it out, eventually, just like everyone else did. His fickle moods did not adhere to anything that can be quantified or easily laid out, and your only hope was moving with them and hoping the wind didn’t change without warning.

 

“Air’s clear. I don’t care. A lot’s happened since then.” He waved her off, dismissively, returning to his work. Stupid old junkheap and its stupid loose bolts. “We done?” 

 

Mantis didn’t answer and he thought maybe she’d finally left, but when he looked over his shoulder, she was still standing there, no longer fidgeting, but standing with a renewed sort of resolve. “Drax says you are meanest to the people you like, so that means you must like me very much.”

 

Rocket’s ears flattened against his skull as he plotted his revenge on Drax. That bastard, spreading lies about him. He was mean to _everyone_ , and for all that he was working on dialing it back somewhat, it was still a work-in-progress. And Mantis hadn’t even earned her way into the trust tree yet, anyway. If he happened to be mean to her, it had nothing to do with liking her and everything to do with her being in his face when he didn’t want her to be.

 

“Drax is tellin’ you fibs. I don’t even _know_ you, lady. You’re the weird girl we picked up off Ego’s planet is all.” Maybe that would chase her away. 

 

It didn’t. She remained as she was, still smiling. If he didn’t know any better, it was becoming less awkward by the second. Maybe even as close to endearing as he could expect that face of hers to get. He found the average bald-body repulsive, anyway, but those black voids she called eyes were _unnerving_. “That is why I’m here. I would like to try again.”

 

Rocket’s brow furrowed. Maybe it was time to investigate the parts of the engine room only accessible through the ventilation to get away from this conversation or maybe it was time to let his instinctual curiosity take over and keep following this to some natural conclusion. Curiosity, as it usually did, won. “...Try again?”

 

“To get to know you.” She paused for a beat. “Without petting you, though I would still like that very much.”

 

Against his better judgment, he snorted. Hard not to- she was so damn earnest, and he’d never met anyone that obsessed with petting him before. Most people saw his fangs, his gun, or his attitude and decided he wasn’t cute anymore. Mantis, weirdo that she was, appeared to be immune to such things. Even still, he wanted to tell her he wasn’t a chatty person, and that she could do what everyone else does- observe and adapt- and it would be enough.

 

But Yondu hadn’t left the back of his mind, cautioning him against pushing people away and being scared of affection. If the old bastard were here right now, he would have probably kicked him in the ass for trying to turn his back on someone offering him honest, unsolicited, and unselfish interest in him.

 

He sighed and dropped the wrench again and gestured to the floor in front of him. “Sit down. I’m gonna lay some ground rules.”

 

She obeyed almost instinctively, without any hesitation- hell, she even bounced a little once she was settled and leaned in to listen to what he had to say. “All right. What are they?”

 

He held up one clawed finger. “One: you touch me on _my_ terms. If you don’t got my permission, you’re gonna lose a finger. I don’t care who you are.”

 

Mantis looked shocked for a moment, but then nodded, understanding. That done, he raised a second finger, “Two: stay where I can see you. Don’t you _ever_ come at me from behind.” 

 

Another nod, as a slightly pale green flush began to color her cheeks. He thought, at first, she was feeling a bit ill, because of the intensity of his statements, but on closer examination of the way she kept looking down and the fact that he was listing off everything she _had_ done on Berhart, the poor girl was probably feeling a bit embarrassed. “Three: don’t touch the back of my neck. Period.”

 

He waited a moment in silence, making sure she got all of that. She seemed to be processing it slowly- or possibly looking for a way to extricate herself- but after a short time, she met his eyes and a bright smile lit up her features.

 

This time, god help him, she really did look endearing. “So does this mean-?”

 

He groaned and moved closer. “Don’t make a thing out of it. Gamora told me about your empathy mojo. This’ll go a lot smoother if you just… _feel_ me out, instead.” At her hesitation, he added, gruffly, “You got my permission.”

 

Her hand shot out as quick as a flash, landing gently on the top of his head, as if she were worried he might change his mind. She’d touched his ears and started giggling (“they’re so soft!”) before she ever actually activated her powers, and once she did the laughter stopped abruptly.

 

He expected it might.

 

“It’s like broken glass,” she whispered, pulling her hand away and cupping it to her chest. “I’m afraid if I touch it, it will cut us both.”

 

“Yeah,” he muttered, resisting the urge to make some dry comment about how he wasn’t so cute and cuddly once you saw what was going on underneath the surface. “That’s kinda what it’s like bein’ me.”

 

She hesitated and then carefully held out her hand where he could see it, “May I try again?” She waited until he nodded and rather than touch his head and ruffle his ears, she laid her hand against the side of his face, trailing a thumb in soothing gestures against his muzzle. 

 

“You know I’m not going to hurt you, but you’re still scared.” He flinched under her touch- more at being called out than because of everything she was doing- and she still almost pulled back again. “I’m sorry.”

 

She’d moved her hands under his chin, ruffling the fur on his face with gentle, tender strokes that made him close his eyes and relax a bit- against his will, of course. “What d’you have to be sorry about?”

 

“You haven’t been touched affectionately enough to feel safe with someone’s hands on you.” Her words carried a hint of incredulous sympathy, as if she was shocked that this wasn’t something that _bothered_ him. It made sense that she’d be shocked- she’d been deprived of affection for most- if not all- of her life, and as an empath she craved it. “It’s very sad.”

 

“It’s not a big deal. I don’t want people feeling me up all the time. It’s stupid. Nobody goes around petting Quill or Drax, so why shouldn’t they keep their hands to themselves around me?”

 

“Because Drax is not as soft as you are.” It sounded like something she should laugh at, but her voice was still quiet. It took him a second to realize, she was still in _his_ head, not hers. That quiet resignation mixed with apprehension that tinged her every word? That belonged to him.

 

He nipped at her fingers with as much restraint as he could manage so he didn't actually hurt her. “You said it was like broken glass in there, didn’t you? Stop probing deeper. You’ll just make yourself miserable.” 

 

“Are you miserable, Rocket?” She released his face and laid her hands in her lap, breathing in and out as the glow from her antenna faded and she was able to sort out her own emotions from the ones she got off of him. Even back with her own feelings, she still looked a little lost. “I am sorry. That must sound like a deeply personal question.”

 

“It is.” He spoke curtly, but honestly, and somehow that didn’t seem to upset her. Maybe she gleaned enough off of him to know he meant no harm by it. “I dunno. Probably not?” He picked idly at the fur on his arm. “It’s all just leftovers.”

 

“Leftovers?” She repeated the word with a cant to her head. “I don’t understand.”

 

He winced and kept raking his claws through his fur, focusing on that task than on her with her earnest eyes and her innocence and her genuinely wanting to know him- all of him- and not judging him or being overly sympathetic about it.

 

“Y’know, like… if you get beaten down enough times you’re always gonna be looking around to make sure someone else isn’t gonna kick you in the face. If I’m too happy, then I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop, ‘cause something’s bound to mess it up. So I’m always waiting for that or I panic and mess it up first, and I never get to be happy.” 

 

He’d have never been able to explain that had Yondu not thrown it in his face. All this time, it’s been about _the world_ , not him. Oh no, never _him_. The world was out to get him and he was doing his damnedest to fight it. It never occurred to him that maybe if he stopped fighting, he’d actually get to enjoy what he had. And maybe if he wasn’t so afraid of losing it, he could keep it.

 

Genius level IQ and it took an old pirate to lay that one out for him. Score one for genetic engineering. 

 

Mantis had fallen silent as she poured over his words, and then, shyly, “I could make you contented if you’d like.”

 

The words had barely left her mouth before he bristled, his voice lowering to cold, barely suppressed fury at the _idea_ of her toying around with his head. “Don’t you _ever_ do that to me. Got it?”

 

“Yes.” She spoke so softly he doubted anyone with less sensitive ears could have picked up the single word, but she was only cowed for a moment while Rocket tried to calm himself. Seeing that he was trying to pull himself together, she was emboldened, “You don’t want me to do it because you’re scared of someone changing you, aren’t you?” He tensed, but avoided her gaze. She went on, still gentle, “I felt it. Whenever someone touched you, it proceeded someone hurting you or changing some aspect of you. I am sorry for suggesting it.”

 

He grunted, still refusing to look at her. “You could’ve just done it without sayin’ shit, so I guess that makes you better ‘n most people.” He spared a glance her way and nearly groaned when he saw how much her face lit up. Any vaguely nice thing he said to her was going to make her react like that, and he didn’t know how to handle it. It was like she was just building up a reservoir of his unexpected kindness.

 

“I could have! But I didn’t!” She leaned forward, hands still on her knees. “Because I don’t want you to be scared of me. If you let me touch you, I want you to be contented on your own.”

 

Rocket eyed her skeptically. “And all that… broken glass?” Broken glass. What a good metaphor for what it’s like to _deal_ with him on a daily basis. Some days you might get your hand all the way through and never get cut at all. Other days…

 

“I’m not afraid of being cut.” She straightened, looking self-satisfied and brave, as if she had already decided that Rocket was worth facing the shards to get to know. In that moment, it was Rocket who was cowed. Most of the time, he assumed people tolerated him or only loved him when the glass didn’t cut. And maybe that wasn’t true- he had his people, and despite everything they hadn’t kicked him out yet. And show was more important than tell, anyway.

 

But, hell, this chick didn’t even know him- hadn’t suffered a real trial by fire with him at her side in any real capacity, since she was mostly in his periphery during the fight with Ego. And yet, here she was, all sunshine and flowers, looking at him not like a broken creature, but like someone she genuinely thought she could care for, and was worth the risk of a little glass.

 

And she didn’t even _know_ him. Hadn't seen the worst of him, even though she had to know it was there among the shards of his battered and broken emotional state that was far from close to being repaired.

 

In a way, it reminded him of Groot- the original one- back when he was less influenced by the moods of the team around him. Back when he was just a gentle, stupid giant of a tree who hadn’t cared that Rocket was trying to get rid of him at every opportunity and stubbornly stuck by him. He hadn’t known anything either, and yet he knew everything. And when Rocket showed his true colors, he shrugged it off, because as much as Rocket wanted to tell people those were his _true_ colors, they were just a defense mechanism. 

 

And maybe that thought was what made him do something he’d kick his own ass for later, since it was weak and needy, but he’d always done it with Groot and he hadn’t been able to since his death. One day, the little sapling might be big enough, but right now all he had was this weird chick, because with anyone else he’d feel self-conscious. God, he needed it though, after everything. The past two months had been rough and they might even get rougher from here.

 

“Move your hands,” he muttered as he forced his way into her lap. Mantis tensed at first, and then let out a quiet, delighted squeak as he arranged himself in a comfortable position. “Don’t make a thing outta this either. And if you tell anyone, I’ll bust those skinny little kneecaps of yours.” She giggled in response. “I’m serious.”

 

She shifted, wrapping an arm around him, and he rested his head in the crook of her elbow, while her other hand played with his ears, careful to keep her hands off the back of his neck. “I know you are,” she murmured, and Rocket deigned not to tell her that she was a terrible liar.

 

It had to be uncomfortable for her, kneeling in the engine room with almost thirty pounds of animal in her arms, but she remained like that without complaint, keeping silent vigil over him while he sought a comfort he’d been too afraid to ask for since everything happened. For the most part, he was certain she wasn’t using her empathy powers at all, but rather just holding him without selfishly trying to suss out how he felt about the whole thing.

 

But after sometime, his breathing must have settled and the tension must have went out of him, and he felt her contented gasp that suggested that she must have activated her powers. “You feel safe,” she said. Without looking up, it was hard to tell, but he thought she sounded like she might have been about to start crying.

 

He rolled his eyes behind his closed eyelids and yawned. “Don’t make a thing out of it.” This time the words carried no bite or any kind of weight at all. He was only saying them to say them, as if his tough guy image would wither and die if he didn’t at least pretend he was too hardened for this.

 

But Mantis knew the truth, and he knew the truth, and since no one else was going to know, it didn’t really matter.


End file.
